The Whether

It’s so cold.

I’m huddled in my triple-lined tracksuit pants under my usual loose-fitted pants, lying beneath a thick quilt, covered in kittens, with the heater on red.

It’s so cold here.

I dream of electric sheep with their own thermostat. I picture a sliding dual-coloured spectrum and know that I need to make a choice.

It’s so cold under here.

Personally, I liked it better when I was sober.

– Scott Sandwich

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